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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488442">Replay</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/governmenthooker/pseuds/governmenthooker'>governmenthooker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil (Movieverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Bad Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/M, Human Experimentation, Memory Loss, Mind Manipulation, Night Terrors, Non-Explicit, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:48:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25488442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/governmenthooker/pseuds/governmenthooker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A life suddenly so unfamiliar, dreams that feel like distant memories, and an overprotective husband who thinks she's completely lost it... Why can't Jillian Wesker just get it together?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jill Valentine/Albert Wesker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Weskertine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. PART ONE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22439827">Suburbia</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohthislove/pseuds/ohthislove">ohthislove</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fanfiction is shamelessly inspired by ohthislove's "Suburbia". It's undoubtedly one of the best RE fanfictions I've read to date and I highly recommend you check it out before you read mine. While reading it, I couldn't help but wonder if instead of Jill being used for combative reasons, Wesker had other plans for her after she's brought back... This will be a mixture of both the game and movie canons.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">Another night, another hour sleeplessly staring at the ceiling above.</p><p class="p1">Jill could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She could feel the stick of sweat against her skin and the relentless pounding in her chest… How many times had she awoken like this in the past week? Or even the past <em>month</em>? She’d quite frankly lost count.</p><p class="p1">The same dreams, the same<em> nightmares</em>, tend to marry together when you have them over and over <em>and</em> <em>over</em> again every single night. It makes them almost predictable; in a way that you learn to navigate through them in hopes to avoid the inevitable… Still though, it never makes them any less terrifying.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Jill blinked at the ceiling above her. She was numb. Her mind was racing, trying to make sense of the things she had just seen. But, to no avail, as it always was.</p><p class="p1">She could feel the weight of her husband sleeping next to her. She could hear his breathing, feel his stillness… She couldn't help but envy him as she wondered what <em>he</em> was dreaming of. Jill wondered if it was peaceful... She wondered if it was normal.</p><p class="p1">Her dreams were <em>always</em> the same things, almost like a broken record.</p><p class="p1">It was more annoying than anything, really, but still, Jill was morbidly curious as to why these things haunted her in her sleep. They were vivid, almost like memories…</p><p class="p1">A decrepit mansion with so many doors. It felt endless.</p><p class="p1">The feeling of being chased but always knowing what to do, as if she’d done this a million times…</p><p class="p1">Skills she never even considered herself having; the ability to run and run and <em>never</em> lose stamina. Reaching into her a satchel on her hip to find an arsenal of lock picking equipment; not to mention the combat skills she harnessed. The gun always in her hand felt so familiar… <em>so</em> familiar…</p><p class="p1">Perhaps she’d been given training? Amalgams of distant memories would always surface; the ‘Jill’ she was in these dreams knew what she was doing, and she did it very well.</p><p class="p1">There was a man who’s name she couldn’t recall who was always at her side. He was protective of her- the way an older brother was, almost. His face always seemed familiar and made Jill feel a rush of calm when he was near… it never lasted long though…</p><p class="p1">Horrible creatures would find her. The dead but living, chasing her relentlessly. The way their skin was rotting… those horrible, feral snarls… Monstrous petals of flesh and teeth threatening to rip her to shreds.</p><p class="p1">Glimpses of an inhumanly tall, disfigured creature with a maw of grossly exposed teeth would come every now and then too. She had seen this creature before… in a tank somewhere… She’d seen him <em>escape</em>.</p><p class="p1">Then, she’d suddenly be in a castle on a cliffside, like something out of a demented fairy tale. Bookcases surrounded her, and a man with hellishly red eyes would be looming over her…</p><p class="p1">The feeling of desperation would be strong in her chest, the need to <em>do</em> or <em>die</em>… A window shattering so very loudly…</p><p class="p1">Falling…</p><p class="p1">Falling…</p><p class="p1">Falling…</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">She’d wake up with a jump just before her body hit the churning waters below her.</p><p class="p1">These dreams were never graphic or outwardly terrifying, just a barrage of wild scenes stitched together between blinks. Though they were short, the impact they left on Jill was tremendous. Something about them she couldn’t quite put her finger on made them seem more than just night terrors…</p><p class="p1">Even when she was awake, Jill could never shake the thought of them. She’d replay the scenes in her mind, trying to make sense of them, trying to remember where they had come from and why they were so vivid…</p><p class="p1">t was <em>always</em> a dead end. She could never trace back deep enough into her mind to figure out where her psyche had birthed such images. Jill had spent so many nights, so many days even, trying to make sense of it all... She felt like she was driving herself crazy.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Hearing the birds begin to sing their early morning songs, Jill slipped her eyes closed with a deep sigh… Another morning, another night gone.</p><p class="p1">________________________</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“…<em>Again</em>?”</p><p class="p1">The voice of her husband echoed faintly against the tiles of their bathroom. He stood only a few feet away from her, buttoning up his dress shirt and staring at himself in the mirror.</p><p class="p1">Jill instead stared at her legs beneath the warm water, almost feeling ashamed. She carefully looked up to the man now looming over her with concern in his blue eyes.</p><p class="p1">She gave him a slight nod. In the silence that followed, Jill could hear him sigh. “And it was the same things?”</p><p class="p1">She shifted in the water a bit, uncomfortable under his worried scrutiny. “Always. The doors, that castle, the zombi—"</p><p class="p1">“If this keeps up anymore we’re upping your dose.”He was quick to remind her, matter of factly. “This isn’t healthy, Jillian.”</p><p class="p1">Jill chewed her tongue and looked back down to the water she laid in. Her cheeks burned at the name, <em>that </em>name. “I know…”</p><p class="p1">She could hear her husband step to her then, coming down to her level at the edge of the porcelain bathtub. He reached, cupping her chin gently and turning her towards him.</p><p class="p1">“I love you…” He leaned, kissing her softly on the lips before trailing down, down to her neck. He planted another kiss against her paled skin. “We’ll get through it together… I <em>promise</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Jill shuddered, feeling his warmth against her dewy skin. He stood, and she stared up at him, a blush rising under the spray of freckles on her cheeks.</p><p class="p1">“I’ll be home this evening, okay? Try not to think too much about these things. We’ll talk a bit more when I get back.”</p><p class="p1">Jill forced herself to smile, nodding again. Her thoughts raced, wanting to ask him how he expected her to find even a moments peace with this situation… Still, she feigned that calm smile as she watched him exit the room. She could hear his footsteps trailing down the hall, down the stairs, until she couldn’t hear them anymore…</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill was alone.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">She sat there for a few moments in the now cooling water of her bath... What was there to do? The same things she did everyday?</p><p class="p1">Sure, she could clean the house, but she did that yesterday. She could kill time by practicing on the piano downstairs, or maybe she could just be lazy and stay in bed all day… But, at this point, Jill had read the sheet music on her piano (and played each concerto) front-to-back at least six times already… and the thought of staying in bed did nothing but make her shiver…</p><p class="p1">Jill pulled herself up from the water then, draining the bathtub as she slowly regained her footing.She glanced at herself in the mirror, sitting just above the double-sinked counter of the bathroom a few feet away.</p><p class="p1">…Had she always been blonde?</p><p class="p1">It was an odd question to ask herself; What girl couldn’t remember her natural hair color? For whatever reason, something about Jill’s reflection just didn’t seem like… well, <em>Jill.</em> Yet another thing she couldn’t bring herself to make sense of…</p><p class="p1">Jill shivered, quickly pushing her recollections aside as she reached for the towel laying at her feet. Stepping closer to the sink on the counter, Jill took the towel into her hands. Wringing the water from her flaxen hair, she watched herself in the mirror still…</p><p class="p1">Leaning closer to her reflection, Jill focused intently on the roots of her hair. Blonde like the rest of it. As it always was.</p><p class="p1">Jill frowned, almost expecting to see a different color staring her in the face. </p><p class="p1">Okay, maybe she <em>was</em> losing it.</p><p class="p1">Maybe she’d been having these dreams for years and years and they were finally driving her insane. Inevitably she would be placed on more and more medicine until by some miracle she’d become better. Or, maybe she’d eventually crack and her once loving husband would lock her away somewhere…</p><p class="p1">Jill knew deep down all of this talk would only get her worked up in the end. Another panic attack, another pill… another annoyed husband to coddle her back to a fraction of stability. She sighed, wrapping the now-damp towel around herself before exiting the bathroom defeatedly.</p><p class="p1">______________________</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Sitting in one of the few chairs at their dining table, Jill fidgeted with the half-eaten lunch before her.</p><p class="p1">Jill had eaten all she could really stomach, but still, a voice told her she needed to eat more, that being malnourished would only make her feel worse… Jill knew deep down she couldn’t survive the day on half an apple, a sandwich of only white bread and peanut butter, and what felt like only three hours of sleep.</p><p class="p1">Taking an apple slice between her teeth, she glanced at the digital clock on the stove’s control panel.</p><p class="p1"><em>11:43 AM</em>.</p><p class="p1">She couldn’t help but groan.</p><p class="p1">Jill unceremoniously let the apple slice back onto her plate with a faint <em>thunk. </em>She was thankful she’d managed to pass a few hours, but what was she to do for the remaining <em>seven</em>? It was the ever present challenge, one that always hung over her like a looming dread…</p><p class="p1">As her eyes continued trailing the room, Jill focused on a window nearby.It was <em>beautiful</em> outside- at least, from what she could see.</p><p class="p1">She couldn’t really remember the last time she’d been out in the sun. Maybe it was something so minimal that her mind just overlooked it.</p><p class="p1">Jill stood from the table, keeping her eyes on the world outside. She slowly made her way over to the window, and when she reached the glass, she couldn't help but press her face against it. It was warm.</p><p class="p1">Her eyes scanned the world outside. The same ordinary suburb of houses stared back at her. It was peaceful- a little too serene, if anything. To Jill, it seemed that there was never anything happening here…</p><p class="p1">Never a person walking the sidewalk, never a car coming down the streets…</p><p class="p1">Never the sound of children playing, or never the barking of family dogs…</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Was that really all that ordinary, come to think of it? Surely it wasn’t…</p><p class="p1">Jill peered at one of the houses across the street. Dim windows were all she could see… She pursed her lip, her mind wandering… <em>Had she ever even seen their neighbors</em>…?</p><p class="p1">Dread souped in Jill’s stomach. She turned from the window, sighing.</p><p class="p1">Why were things like this? Why were these so seemingly asinine things haunting her all of the sudden? Had she felt like this every day for the past while? Had everything just bled together so much she couldn’t recall her own normalcy?</p><p class="p1">Maybe her husband was right, maybe she <em>did</em> need more medicine… She was certain this was all just anxiety eating away at her mind, and that’s what her medication was for, right? Jill chewed her lip at that, thinking of those bitter pills she could barely swallow and those needles that stung her skin.</p><p class="p1">Jill glanced back briefly to the window. The warmth of the sun seemed <em>so</em> inviting from the typical drear of her house. With each anxiety ridden minute that passed, Jill felt like the eggshell colored walls were closing in closer on her… She felt utterly trapped.</p><p class="p1">Fresh air could do her some good, she thought. She could sit outside on their patio, or perhaps she could go for a walk. What was the worst that could happen, really? She would have to justify herself to an overprotective husband?</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill smiled to herself with newfound determination, something she hadn’t felt in quite a while. She made her mind up; she was going to go outside.</p><p class="p1">Striding over to the front door across the room, and commenting to herself that she’d do the dishes later, Jill felt adrenaline in her veins. It wasn't the same adrenaline from her dreams, though. Oh no, this was <em>good</em> adrenaline... an adrenaline that made her uncaring of what may be waiting for her outside, or what her husband would say to her uncharacteristically standing out in the sun. Sure, she was still only in her nightdress, but was it really all that strange? </p><p class="p1">A woman, standing in her yard, enjoying the morning sun, couldn't be all that strange in a suburb seemingly so devoid of life. Something so normal, so ordinary, surely shouldn't be this big of a deal. She'd done it before... Right?</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">Coming up to the door, Jill scanned a table littered with picture frames that sat nearby in the foyer. As she passed, many faces of herself and her husband stared back at her.</p><p class="p2">One image stood out the most though; a beautifully intricate, golden frame sitting in the center of the bunch.</p><p class="p1">Beneath the frame's glass, a still image of Jill smiled. She was perched on a chair, holding a beautiful bouquet of deep crimson flowers in her hands. The sprawling lace of her dress pooled at her feet, and a white veil blanketed her back. She looked absolutely ethereal, her blonde hair even framing her face like an angel’s halo. Next to her, her husband stood with a hand placed firmly on her shoulder. Jill looked down at the delicate engraving on the lower piece of the little frame…</p><p class="p1"> <em>Jillian and Albert Wesker. </em></p><p class="p1">
  <em> December 23rd, 2005.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. PART TWO</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay. Wow.<br/>First off, I'm blown away at the reception this got so far! Thank you so much for all of the love; I totally wasn't expecting it. I'm so happy to hear I nailed the anxiety-inducing suspense here... pacing is something I definitely struggle with sometimes ^^''</p><p>I'll keep updating as frequently as I can, I promise! Things are going to start getting really interesting from here on out.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">The air was humid. Jill could feel the stick of it against her skin as she walked, barefooted, onto the patio of her home. For a moment, she was reminded of waking up in the middle of the night as she had so many times before, covered in the same stickiness… This though, <em>wasn’t</em> unpleasant. It was warmth; a warmth she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever, if even at all. It was like when she pressed her face against the glass, only now it was all around her, more intense, more <em>real</em>.</p><p class="p1">The sun was just barely shining through a sky of silvery clouds. It wasn’t unpleasant either, just like it’s warmth. The sunlight was just enough to make Jill squint a bit as she stepped out from below the patio’s covering.</p><p class="p1">She stared for a moment at the house across the street.</p><p class="p1"><em>Now or never</em>, Jill told herself… She<em> could </em>go back inside anddo the dishes, continuing to ignore the itch of curiosity always at her core…but she scoffed at the mere thought.</p><p class="p1">It was really only a few meters. It was only a few feet. It was only a few steps…</p><p class="p1">Jill wondered if the neighbors would even answer her. And, even if they did, what would she say?</p><p class="p1">‘Oh, good afternoon! I’m Jillian Wesker from across the street, and I’m having a break with my sanity!’</p><p class="p1">Jill imagined their confusion, she pictured them slamming the door in her face. She dreaded having to explain such a thing to Albert… It would surely only be salt into that wound; She knew he was already, more than likely, going to be angered by her leaving the house.</p><p class="p1">“<em>Jillian, you could get hurt.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Jillian, you’re fragile.</em>”</p><p class="p1">“<em>Jillian, I just care about you </em><b><em>so</em></b><em> much.</em>”</p><p class="p1">Guilt suddenly stabbed Jill in her gut. She felt the welcoming heat of the sun turn to a chill as her blood ran cold.</p><p class="p1">Albert cared about her, that was all… and here she was, going against the one and only rule he ever expected her to live by. Jill had such a comfortable life thanks to him; the only thing he ever asked of her was to keep the home well-kept, and to keep herself safe… and that meant staying inside.</p><p class="p1">Just after she had made it down the stairs leading to their deck, Jill couldn’t help but glance at the door now behind her. She chewed her lip.</p><p class="p1">No… <em>No</em>. She needed to do this.</p><p class="p1">Albert would understand hopefully. Maybe if by some miracle this made her feel better, he’d be a bit more empathetic. If it quelled her fears, surely he would be forgiving. It would be worth it…</p><p class="p1">Jill returned to face the line of houses in front of her, separated by only the road a few feet ahead. It would only take a few minutes at most… All she had to do was run across the street, knock on the door, and that would be it…</p><p class="p1">Stepping forward ever so cautiously, Jill could feel the grass against her feet. It’s dew was still cold, and she couldn’t help but shiver a bit as she made her way across their picture-perfectly-green lawn. She stepped as if on a minefield, slowly but with a purpose. She wanted nothing more but to get this over with.</p><p class="p1">Soft grass eventually turned to hard concrete. Jill cursed herself for not slipping shoes on as she stepped down from the curb.</p><p class="p1">The pavement was warm, and she could feel the small pinpricks of rocks and gravel in her feet… More motivation to cross the street quicker, she supposed.As she came into the middle of the road, Jill paused.</p><p class="p1">She couldn’t help but glance on either side of her… Waiting, watching for any sign of life. It would only be a matter of time before a car came along, right?</p><p class="p1">But, no… there was only Jill. Silence surrounded her, save for the gentle rustle of the wind against the neighborhood’s trees. Jill felt her stomach turn.</p><p class="p1">This wasn’t right… <em>None</em> of this was.</p><p class="p1">Her skin crawled, the silence becoming deafening, <em>maddening</em> even. Jill all but sprinted then, further motivated by her wave of anxiety. She came to the curb within only a few seconds. As she gingerly came to the paved pathway of the house, Jill stared into the windows.</p><p class="p1">Nothing. No movement, no rustling of curtains... No sign of <em>real</em> life. </p><p class="p2">The house was nearly identical to her own. The same white, wooden steps lead up to the same patio... the same creak emanating from them as she made her way up. Jill swallowed hard, unnerved to say the absolute least. Jill then stood, transfixed before the door finally in front of her. It had been so quick, so ordinarily easy to make her way over here... but now it felt as if everything was in slow motion. Jill felt as if she couldn't move fast enough, but questioned if she even really wanted to...</p><p class="p2"><em> God</em>, she couldn't believe she was about to do this... She told herself she could still turn back; There was still time to walk back across the street and forget this even happened. But, Jill (of course) relented... and convinced herself that all she had to do was knock.</p><p class="p2">All she had to do was knock. This was it, it was that easy. It would only take a few moments. It would be over with before she knew it.</p><p class="p1">So, slowly, Jill reached for the door, balling her hand into a fist. She was ready to make her move, to finally get answers… She was so close. She was <em>so</em> close…</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">“...Jillian?”</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Her heart stopped. Her blood turned to iced water. A wave of anxious nausea enveloped her.</p><p class="p1">Jill felt her world break; her worst nightmare, in the moment at least, coming true... She didn’t want to turn to face the familiar voice now calling to her from across the street. But, instinctively, almost against her will, Jillian looked back...</p><p class="p1">Albert stood, next to the black sedan now parked in their driveway. Though his eyes were shielded by his sunglasses, Jill could feel his cold glare boring into her. He motioned, snapping at her to come to him.</p><p class="p1">Jill, without second thought, quickly ran down her neighbor’s steps, across their lawn, back across the street, and up to her husband… She stared up at him, forcing a smile as she caught her breath.</p><p class="p1">“What were you doing?” Albert’s voice was monotone, and Jill couldn’t help but flinch.</p><p class="p1">“I… I was bored and didn’t have much to do, no one to talk to, so I figured I could go say hello to the neighb—“</p><p class="p1">“You couldn’t just wait for me to get home?”</p><p class="p1">Her oh-so-innocent smile suddenly fell at his words. “Albert you know it’s not that, i just wanted—“</p><p class="p1">Albert cut her off again, still glaring down at her through his dark shades. “It doesn’t matter. The last thing I need the neighbors hearing about is your dreams.”</p><p class="p1">“<em>I wasn’t</em>—!”</p><p class="p1">Albert lowered his sunglasses, his glare only intensifying. He reached, grabbing Jill unceremoniously. His fingers dug into the flesh of her arm and she couldn’t help but cry out, more-so from shock than anything else. Only then did he soften, his grip loosening as he sighed.</p><p class="p1">Pulling her along to the door of their house, Albert said nothing else. Jill's legs felt like jelly as she struggled to keep up with him.</p><p class="p1">“What are you doing home early? It can’t be any later than one…” Something,<em> anything</em> to break the tense silence between them. Albert didn’t even turn to face Jill as she spoke sheepishly to him.</p><p class="p1">“I was worried about you. I didn’t feel right leaving you.” He stated matter-of-factly. Nothing else, straight to the point— and Jill wasn’t going to press him further.</p><p class="p1">Jill stumbled behind Albert as he dragged her inside. Her entire body felt alight with shame, like a child caught misbehaving. She stood unmoving in their foyer, hearing Albert lock the door behind her, the sound making her flinch…</p><p class="p1">Footsteps clicked, and Albert came before Jill. He smiled benevolently, placing his hands on her shoulders.</p><p class="p1">“Jillian, you know I worry about you, dearheart…” He sighed, giving her a worried look. “And I worry about what people <em>think</em> of you… I wouldn’t want anybody judging you for these things you’re experiencing.”</p><p class="p1">Jill chewed her lip. She glanced to the floor, defeated.</p><p class="p1">He was right, and she had considered such a thing before... What <em>would</em> the neighbors think? Jill felt quite stupid for brushing off such a serious thing like her and Albert’s reputation. The last thing she wanted was to put them in a bad light…</p><p class="p1">“I’m sorry.” was all Jill could choke out, still staring at her feet.</p><p class="p1">Albert only shook his head, lifting a hand to cup her chin delicately. He tilted her head up, making her look at him.</p><p class="p1">“There’s no need to apologize, dearheart. I understand completely.” His tone was gentle, a complete contrast to what it was a few moments ago.</p><p class="p1">“You do?” Jill was almost ashamed she was questioning the love of her own husband.</p><p class="p1">“Well, of course. You’re not in your right mind, after all; it’s really nothing you can help. That’s what your medicine is for.”</p><p class="p1">Jill felt her stomach pool at his words; the weight of them, the damning nature of them…<em>Not in her ‘right mind’</em>. Perhaps she had been a bit in denial of how serious these thoughts she was having really were. She really was sick— sicker than she thought, at least.</p><p class="p1">Her heart was in her throat. Jill couldn’t find the words to respond.</p><p class="p1">She heard Albert sigh, his hands still placed gently on her shoulder. He leaned forward just a bit, coming down and kissing Jill’s cheek.</p><p class="p1">“I love you, Jillian. Do you remember what I said this morning?” He kissed her again before pulling her into an embrace. “We’re going to get through this <em>together</em>.”</p><p class="p1">Jill allowed herself to relax in Albert’s arms. She laid against his chest, closing her eyes and taking in his familiar scent.</p><p class="p1">He wasn’t mad, he was just his usual overprotective self. Things were okay… they were<em> going</em> to be okay….</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">________________________</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Albert had insisted that Jill take it easy for the rest of the afternoon. Half paranoid she had come close to exhausting herself, he dotted on her like a concerned parent up until that evening. She’d promised she had enough energy to prepare their dinner and he eventually succumbed to her reassurance.</p><p class="p1">The couple sat in relative silence as they ate; Jill being still-too-flustered to attempt conversation. She chose to keep her head down as she pecked at the serving of pasta on her plate. She'd chosen something easy to cook, and her husband (thankfully) never complained. Jill had had loads of practice at the art, after all...</p><p class="p1">“So besides your brave little stunt, how was your day, dearheart?”</p><p class="p1">Jill jumped a bit at his sudden question, but continued to prod at her food. Not even looking at him as she spoke, she gave a mere, gentle “Fine.”</p><p class="p1">She could feel Albert’s eyes still on her in his hesitation.</p><p class="p1">“Just fine?”</p><p class="p1">Jill submitted, sheepishly looking up at him from across the table.“I…I didn’t do much. I considered cleaning the kitchen a bit, or maybe organizing your books… “ Albert smiled at her at that, and Jill continued as she shifted in her seat a bit,  “…But I didn’t get much sleep, you know…”</p><p class="p1">“Well, you have <em>something</em> to do tomorrow at least.” He chided</p><p class="p2">Jill felt that same anxious nausea wash over her again. Her face burned.</p><p class="p2">Why was she ashamed? Why did she feel this guilty for wanting to say hello to her neighbors? Was it such a bad thing to do? Was Albert <em>right</em> to be so overprotective?</p><p class="p2">Jill sunk in her chair a bit. She stared down at the now cold food below her... Her appetite gone. Silence rung in her ears once more. Jill chewed her lip, choosing to only watch Albert eat. After a few moments, he looked to his watch. Jill felt her heart fluttering against her ribs... <em>Was it time already?</em></p><p class="p1">Albert stood suddenly from the table, confirming her suspicions. Coming over to her with an outstretched hand, he smiled down at her. “Come along, Jill. Time for your medicine.”</p><p class="p2">Jill knew she had no choice, and she knew (like many things) it was better to just get things over with. She took his hand, forcing a smile as he gently pulled her up from her chair.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Albert lead her up the stairs, down the hallway… past their bedroom, past Albert’s office… into the bathroom.</p><p class="p1">Jill, following their routine, sat on the edge of the bathtub as Albert opened one of the cabinets under the sink. He reached into the cupboard, pulling out a box. A<em> locked</em> box.</p><p class="p1">The key was in his pocket- it always was. She couldn’t remember why he kept her medicine locked away so tightly, and she was sure she had asked him before. In the moment though, she couldn’t recall his answer… Jill was certain it would’ve been something along the lines of him worrying for her safety, or it being too complicated and risky for her to administer herself.</p><p class="p1">She heard the delicate clink of a glass vial being held. Jill raised her head a bit, glancing as Albert stuck a two milliliter needle into the bottle’s aluminum top.</p><p class="p1">He was so quick, so… experienced, it seemed. He was over at her side in what felt like seconds, the needle pointed to Jill’s upper arm.</p><p class="p1">“Turn.”</p><p class="p1">She obeyed, moving to straddle the edge of the bathtub between her legs. Jill stared at the white porcelain beneath her. Her heart drummed in her ears. Albert kneeled at her side, raising his free hand to grab her arm, gathering a section of her skin between his fingers.</p><p class="p1">Jill dug her fingernails into her palms, anticipating the stab. Though she'd felt it so many times before, it always managed to make her flinch. Always bearable, but never pleasant. Sure enough, she gasped, feeling the prick against her skin... Jill clinched her teeth at the sting, squeezing her eyes shut as she held her breath. <em>One, two, three, four</em>...  Jill gasped again when she felt the needle exit her arm. The sting worsened for a moment, and Jill moved to cup her hand over the injection site, reflexively. </p><p class="p1">"There." Albert said, discarding the now-capped needle. "...You must be exhausted, <em>especially</em> after today."</p><p class="p1">"I think I could stay up a bit longer..." Jill stared up at him as she stood from the bathtub. Her face burned again.</p><p class="p1">"No, Jillian, <em>I</em> think you need to rest." He reached, taking her lithe wrist into his hand and pulling her up against his chest, holding her.</p><p class="p1">Jill sighed against him. "...The dreams..."</p><p class="p1">She felt him tense at that. Albert pulled away from her, staring down at her with concern. "You will tell me if they continue... Okay?"</p><p class="p1">Jill recalled what he had said this morning; 'Upping her dose'. She wondered if it would really be all that hard to keep the dreams to herself. Surely bottling her feelings would only make them worse... and surely, Albert would notice regardless. He would notice her, sitting awake before him in bed. He'd notice the anxiety in her core, eating at her so relentlessly. She'd break eventually, collapsing in tears in his arms... He'd be even more worried. He would undoubtedly send her away...</p><p class="p1">Jill nodded, defeated by her own thoughts. "I will. I promise."</p><p class="p1">Albert's smile returned. He pulled her back into his embrace. "...The medicine will help you, dearheart, I'm <em>confident</em>. These things just take time."</p><p class="p1">She wanted to retort. She wanted to protest and ask him how he knew she would get better, how he knew the medicine would even help her at all... But she bit her tongue. Jill laid against her husband silently, anticipating the moment she would lay in bed with him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. PART THREE</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">In the surrounding darkness, Jill could just barely make out the shape of a door in front of her.</p><p class="p1">Not questioning it, not even questioning<em> where</em> she was or <em>what</em> the hell was even going on, she reached to her side… A satchel sat on her hip, and she dug through it with fervor. Jill retrieved what seemed to be an army knife from the bag… but when she moved to flip it open, it revealed an array of lock picking facets.</p><p class="p1">Jill hesitated, no doubt wondering which one to use... She glanced back to the door. Moving a bit closer, she examined the lock itself.</p><p class="p1"><em>It’s a pin cylinder</em>, Her mind echoed.<em> Use your rake</em>.</p><p class="p1">She flipped out one of the picks— the one almost shaped like a <em>W</em>. Sticking it into the keyhole, along with what looked to be an L shaped piece of metal now in her other hand, Jill pressed her ear against the cold wood of the door. She could almost feel the pins of the lock moving into place as she fidgeted with her tools. Jill concentrated, blocking everything out as she listened to the soft clinking of the metal lock. She was confident. She knew what she was doing. </p><p class="p1">Eventually, she felt it slowly turning, turning…</p><p class="p1">The lock suddenly clicked open and Jill felt a rush of adrenalized triumph. On the other side of the door, the room that stared back was almost anticlimactic. It was dilapidated; everything seeming like it hadn’t been touched in years.  In the corner of the dim room sat a dusted, old desk, and resting on it was an equally dusted, lone typewriter…</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Instead of the gentle chirps from birds waking her today, Jill was met with the faint tap, tap, tap of rain against her bedroom window. That was new... She couldn’t recall the last time it rained.</p><p class="p1">The sun wasn’t up yet- no surprise.</p><p class="p1">She gazed to the clock on her bedside table… 6:38 AM. Jill groaned quietly, careful not to wake her husband, who was <em>of course</em> soundly asleep next to her. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">________________________</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">“Rain.” Albert commented rather bleakly as he stared out of the kitchen window, a cup of coffee in his right hand. “…It <em>was</em> a bit cloudy yesterday, wasn’t it, Jillian?”</p><p class="p1">She didn’t respond. Perched at their dining table, Jill was nibbling ever so slightly on a small piece of toasted bread. <em>Not cloudy enough for rain like this</em>, she commented to herself. It had been so beautiful the day before, and now it seemed everything was just covered in grey… As if Jill couldn’t find her home more depressing these days.</p><p class="p1">She raised her head a bit, looking out of the same window as her husband. Jill watched the raindrops fall against the glass for a moment, her eyes trailing them as they dripped down the pane. </p><p class="p1">Albert turned to face her then. “Now I suppose you <em>really</em> won’t be going outside.” He chuckled, smiling at his own remark…</p><p class="p1">Jill felt her stomach knot. She bit her tongue, literally and figuratively. She looked back to her breakfast, sighing lightly. She wanted to be coy, she wanted to tell him to not give her any ideas, that she still had that same damned itch of curiosity eating at her mind, that she did nothing wrong at all yesterday just wanting some air…</p><p class="p1">“How did you sleep, dearheart?” </p><p class="p1">Immediately, she thought about that door, the lock picking, the way she knew what she was doing, they way things felt so familiar… like they <em>always</em> did.</p><p class="p1"> “…I slept fine.” Quick and curt, then she took another bite of bread into her mouth.</p><p class="p1">Albert almost looked shocked. “Really now?”</p><p class="p1">Jill nodded, swallowing her food, but Albert didn’t seem satisfied. He narrowed his eyes, just enough for her to notice.</p><p class="p1">“Why were you up so early then, Jillian? I felt you stirring.”</p><p class="p1">“I got enough sleep, I guess…” Jill cursed herself for not giving a better answer. She glanced down to the fine china plate laid beneath her. </p><p class="p1">Albert hesitated, then came to her side. Trailing his hand along her jaw, gripping it, and tilting her to face him once again. Jill tensed as her husband stared into her with those stormy eyes… His previous insisting and current silence were utterly <em>damning</em>, they told Jill everything. He had to have known, he felt her moving this morning… Maybe she had even spoken aloud in her sleep about the things she was experiencing…  </p><p class="p1">But, she felt weight lift off of her body as Albert smiled down at her before kissing her forehead gently. Jill couldn’t help but sigh, relieved. She was off the hook again... for now, at least.</p><p class="p1">“Stay safe while I’m at work today please, dearheart. No more sneaking out, especially not in this weather.” Albert planted another kiss on her forehead before setting his coffee on the kitchen counter in exchange for his briefcase. Jill watched him silently, her heart fluttering in her chest as he prepared to leave.</p><p class="p1">At his words, tiny stab of guilt hit her. The rational part of her mind scolded her with a firm, '<em>you did nothing wrong!'</em></p><p class="p1">“I’ll have dinner ready when you get home!” Jill called to him, now staring at the raindrops beating against the glass of the window once more…</p><p class="p1">“I love you Jillian. I’ll be home shortly this evening.”</p><p class="p1">Albert's voice grew distant. Then, the click of the door’s locks echoed from their foyer. The sound of a door slamming shut followed, then the clicking repeated. Jill merely kept her eyes on the window, watching Albert’s black car eventually travel out of sight down the street, blanketed by the rain.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">________________________</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"><br/>
The fervent clicking of a keyboard echoed in Albert’s office.</p><p class="p1">Jill <em>had</em> been a woman of her word. Just as she had mentioned the day before, she spent most of the afternoon reorganizing the many books littering the room's shelves. Her husband's words echoed in her head... <em>"Well, now you have something to do tomorrow"</em>. </p><p class="p1"><em>True</em>, Jill thought to herself. It was a nice way to pass the time, but Jill had grown so tired of seeing the same subjects staring back at her. Chemistry, Medicinal Sciences, Biology… It would’ve put her to sleep had she been not so afraid of the action. It would give her an evidenced answer though when he would ask what she did for the day... An answer she could at least hide behind, if need be.</p><p class="p1">Jill knew doing this was risky. If she forgot to wipe the computer's search history clean, Albert would catch on to her plan. It was so obvious… <em>too</em> obvious... The topics her search bar were among the same, blisteringly obvious vein,</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘homemade lock pick’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>’lock picking for beginners’</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>'how to make a lock pick’</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">Jill had scoured the internet for what felt like utter hours. She wasn't too sure what was more taxing- her chores, or diving into this rabbit hole of looking for answers... She chided to herself that she definitely could've searched things like, <em>'what do these dreams mean?'</em>, or<em> 'recurring vivid nightmares'</em>, or maybe even <em>'paranoia won't leave me alone'</em>...</p><p class="p1">On second thought though, Jill really wasn't so sure she wanted those answers. So, there she sat, resting her chin in her free hand as she clicked and scrolled through the pages of the internet browser. Jill skimmed over the search results in front of her, until, finally, </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2">  <em> ‘DIY Lock Pick that Works!’</em></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill perked up just from reading the title. So it <em>was</em> possible... She clicked the link almost immediately. What greeted her was a modest little forum, one for survival tips and the like. Links to many more threads and articles about home-brewed survival tips stared back at her on the webpage. Jill focused on the task at hand though, scrolling down as she continued reading,</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>‘Here’s what you’ll need:</em><br/>
<em>- Paper clips</em><br/>
<em>- Pliers</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>That’s it! It’s really that easy to make your own lock pick.’</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill couldn’t believe it- It was almost too good to be true. Paper clips?</p><p class="p1">She turned, leaning down to one of the drawer’s of Albert’s desk. <em>Paper clips</em>...</p><p class="p1">Pulling it open, she rustled through the piles of pens and pencils, sheets of paper, folders, and notepads… A fresh cartridge of staples pricked Jill as she reached the flat surface of the drawer’s bottom, but she persevered nonetheless. Sliding her hands along the hardwood bottom, she finally felt the little clusters of thin, curved wire she needed. Pulling out a handful of the clips, she turned back to the monitor.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>’First, take one of your clips and bend it into an "L" shape with your pliers. Not too long, not too short. This will be your tension wrench.’</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill took a single paper clip between her fingers. She didn’t want to chance going scavenging for pliers. Though she was almost certain there were some laying around in the basement somewhere, Albert would <em>surely</em> notice if something like that was out of place. What use did Jill really have for such a tool? Besides, Jill knew that Albert was never fond of her going into the basement. It was dark and cluttered... 'Unsafe' as he told her.</p><p class="p1">Something like this just had to be executable with her own fingers... Jill pictured herself stranded, locked out of her home. Maybe she had forgotten her keys inside, or just misplaced them; Then she'd <em>really</em> have no choice but to use her hands to make the impromptu picks.  Jill laughed aloud at the imaginary situation. What would be the chances of her having paper clips on her person, but not her own house keys?</p><p class="p1">...What else what she expected to do, though? Go through the trouble (and risk) of breaking a window? Try her best to kick the door in?</p><p class="p1">At those thoughts, her mind almost instantly went back to the house across the street. Jill stopped before getting ahead herself.</p><p class="p1"><em>No. </em>Doing something like that was unrealistic. Even if the house <em>was</em> abandoned, the damage would be too obvious.</p><p class="p1">She sighed, flustered.</p><p class="p1">Pinching the metal between her fingers, Jill straightened the paper clip to lay flat, then bent it back to a ninety-degree angle on its end. An <em>L</em>, just as the instructions said. She set her newly crafted 'tension wrench' onto the desk as she glanced back to the webpage.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <em>'Now, flatten another clip and then bend it into a small, horizontal "W" along the tip. This will be your rake.'</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">The rake! Jill remembered it from her dream!</p><p class="p1">Not even having to look at the reference picture in the article, she flattened the second clip and used the tip of her nails to curve the wire into position. She definitely could've done a cleaner job with the pliers... Still though, it was something. Jill tried to have faith it would work. These instructions were here for a reason; the replies seemed promising and Jill wanted to believe many people before her had done the same...</p><p class="p1">At that thought, Jill clicked and scrolled her way back up to the beginning of the forum post. There, a date reassured her...</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>'POSTED: August 4th, 2002. 04:37 PM EST'</em>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">So, that proved it. The post had been here <em>this</em> long, garnered <em>this</em> much positivity... It <em>had</em> to work. </p><p class="p1">Scrolling back down to her previous spot, Jill continued on reading. </p><p class="p1">
  <em>'Picking a standard lock is a pretty simple;</em>
</p><p class="p1">
  <em>Within the lock are a set of spring-pins that are set at certain points. Once all the pins are leveled by a key (or in this case, a pick), the lock will open. To keep the pins set in place, the tension wrench is used to turn the lock so the pressure from it will hold the pins as they fall into place thanks to the rake. Once all the pins are set, the lock will release and open.'</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">She tried to recall just how it had felt in her dream... She remembered pressing her ear to the cold wood of the door, trying to listen for the fabled moving pins. Jill had indeed felt the release of the pressure, and she had heard the clicks of the pins coming into place.</p><p class="p1">It seemed so simple! Jill felt a rush of determination. She could do this. She could <em>actually</em> do this. But, before getting too over confident, she told herself to continue reading... Jill scrolled along the page, coming nearly to the end as a section of <em>red</em> text caught her eye.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2"><em>'</em> <b> <em>Important note</em> </b> <em>: These lock picks work best for "one time use" only.'</em></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">...Well, Jill felt her heart sink a bit at that. All of this effort just for a one time pick? She supposed these really were best for emergency situations in a pinch. But, without even really having to think twice , Jill reached back into the same desk drawer, producing more paper clips from the pile at its bottom. Despite the task feeling so vividly, strangely familiar in her dream, she <em>knew</em> this was going to take some practice.</p><p class="p1">She began repeating her previous process, trying so desperately to ignore the stinging, harsh burn in her fingertips. It would be worth it for even the chance to finally have some peace. It would be <em>so</em> worth it.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">________________________</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">She had checked three times to make sure her history was gone before exiting Albert's study. She made sure everything was in its place, that everything was spick and span and the least suspicious it could be. Her alibi would cover her tracks, she was certain, but still... Albert was smart. Jill was also certain, <em>especially</em> at this point, he was suspicious.</p><p class="p1">She had managed to make six sets of lock picks over what was left of the afternoon, and she was <em>more</em> than satisfied with that. Said instruments were tucked safely into the pocket of her robe. Jill planned to ration them, maybe keep one or two for an emergency situation... First though, she would need practice, but where?</p><p class="p1">As she made her way down the stairs, Jill begun to think of all the locks around her house...</p><p class="p1">There was the front door. There was the back door. There were the bedroom locks, the bathroom's lock...</p><p class="p1">Jill glanced to one of the windows as she came to the den. A healthy drizzle of rain was still falling outside. Jill frowned; She wanted to avoid getting soaked <em>as much</em> as possible. Perhaps the locks on the bedroom doors would be the easiest bet, but were they even the same? No, they weren't-- Jill recalled their pinholes being round and the locks being the kind you push in! Would a lockpick even work on them? Jill wasn't so willing to risk the waste of a pick...</p><p class="p1">The patio's covering would keep her sheltered from the rain, at least until she decided to bolt across the street again. Rationally, her own front door would be the best to practice on. There was the risk of Albert coming home early again, but Jill could quickly hide the picks and just say she was--</p><p class="p1">No. He would be suspicious... There was no way around it or avoiding it. He had told her to stay inside, and he had expected her to obey. She had promised, after all. The risk was palpable; Jill knew this very well. She could feel the adrenaline already in her veins, in her mind...</p><p class="p1">Jill let out a frustrated groan. </p><p class="p1">She glanced into the kitchen as she walked passed it, seeing that same digital clock on the stove now reading '2:47 PM'. Albert would be home at six, if he stayed at work, that is. If Jill could be back at least an hour before, she would have time to start dinner just as she promised and her husband would have <em>no</em> reason to be weary. </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Coming into their foyer, walking past that same table of pictures, Jill remembered <em>this time</em> to slip on a pair of modest houseshoes. The last thing she needed was that feeling of gravel in her feet from yesterday. She would be in quite the bind if she needed to full-on sprint back to her home. Albert may turn a blind eye to her hair being a bit wet, but he would definitely notice the limp in his wife's step...</p><p class="p1">God, she was <em>really</em> going to do this again... and then more.</p><p class="p1">Jill knew she was past the point of second thoughts. She had already spent time making the picks; She was already outside. She couldn't go back now... She just couldn't. </p><p class="p1">Jill came to the front door and unlatched its locks, swinging it open and staring at the street before her for a moment.</p><p class="p1">It was cold, and the rain still falling upon the neighborhood only intensified that fact. Jill almost considered going back in to retrieve a jacket from the closet to replace her thin, cotton robe, but she figured the cold could serve to motivate her to be quicker.</p><p class="p1">Thinking of the many ways she could approach this task, she turned back to the still open door behind her. </p><p class="p1">There was no way to lock it from the outside; She needed an actual, physical key to do so. Only one existed, and Albert kept it with him. They had discussed before there was no real reason why Jill would need a key... She remembered asking him over lunch one day why she didn't have her own. Wasn't it normal? What if there was a reason for her to go outside?</p><p class="p1">Albert had told her not to worry. He only reminded her to finish her food so she could take her medicine. Nothing would happen to her; he would keep her safe... and she hadn't protested. Jill cursed her past-self for that; A key would definitely make things easier...</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">Jill lowered herself to her knees in front of the door. Staring at the lock, her mind was still racing with ways to handle this... Did the door <em>need</em> to be closed? Reaching up and behind the door, she flipped the lock back into place. The deadbolt then jutted out of the metal strike plate with a loud <em>click</em>. Jill jiggled the doorknob... and it didn't budge. Not even a bit. </p><p class="p1">...Close enough? It was going to have to be.</p><p class="p1">It wouldn't be exactly the same, but the lock was well, <em>locked</em>.  Jill pulled one of the pick sets from her robe's pocket. Remembering what those instructions of the forum post, she took the mangled, crude excuse for the 'rake' and shoved it into the keyhole, then did the same with the torsion wrench. </p><p class="p1">There was some difficulty; Jill pushed the torsion wrench down, pushing the rake further and deeper along the pins. She pressed her ear against their cold front door as she shook the rake inside... </p><p class="p1"><em>Click, click.</em> Push.<em> Click, click.</em> Push. <em>Click, click,click...</em></p><p class="p1">It was almost maddening, but Jill knew there was a method to it. It felt so close but so far away. Jill could swear she could feel the lock giving in, the pins falling into place as she struggled to shove the rake into the keyhole...</p><p class="p1">Jill continued pushing and pushing the metal further into the lock's slit, becoming more desperate than she'd like to admit. With a final stab, the resistance finally budged, and Jill <em>felt</em> something release. Her heart all but skipped a beat. With that same, loud click, the deadbolt retreated as the torsion wrench turned the lock...</p><p class="p1">Jill lifted her head from the door; She stared at the picks still jammed inside of the now opened lock.</p><p class="p1">It was just as easy it had been in her dream. Jill almost couldn't believe it.</p><p class="p1">It had felt exactly the same. The pins clicking into place, the pressure releasing... There was <em>no</em> way this was a coincidence; people didn't just up and learn things like this from dreams alone. Beginner's luck was perhaps at her advantage, but why did it feel so familiar? Why did she know this feeling, why did this feel so right?! Jill tried to remember where on earth she could've learned something such as this. A past job, a past hobby maybe...</p><p class="p1">Nothing. Nothing <em>at all</em> came to mind.</p><p class="p1">The only thing replaying through her head were memories of her life with Albert... She remembered the days she would spend taking care of him, taking care of the house... That was it. </p><p class="p1">Jill's hands were shaking. She raised her gaze to the house adjacently standing across the street.  No movement. No sign of life. Nothing at all... just like the memories she tried desperately searching for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello my dear readers! i'm so sorry this chapter is a bit late! doing research on lockpicking wasn't the easiest thing... but i promise i'll try to update a little more consistently again! </p><p>also, i went back to the first chapter and fixed an error in the timeline with the wedding date at the end. this work follows the original RE canon right up until jill being taken into umbrella by wesker. i was going to have their wedding date be the actual date of the spencer mansion incident, but i figured making it a whole year prior would be a more wesker-y thing to do. 'present day' in this work is around the events of RE5/RE:Afterlife. hope that clears things up a bit! </p><p>see you all for the next (hopefully much sooner) update! thank you for reading! ♡</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. PART FOUR</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maybe she would see someone, anyone, finally gaze out of the window. Maybe she would see the faintest rustle of the curtain behind the pane. Maybe, <em>just maybe</em>, she would knock on the door (<em>successfully</em>, this time!) and someone would answer…</p><p>Jill sighed. Deep down, like many other things, she knew the chances of that were slim to none. Her luck would be too good if such a thing happened, and the pit in her stomach currently was far too great. As she turned to close her own front door, Jill couldn’t help but wonder just what lied beyond the walls of that house across the street.</p><p>What if it was perfectly normal on the inside? What if she truly <em>was</em> losing herself? What if Albert was right about all of it?</p><p>A chill shook Jill then. She couldn’t let herself believe such a thing;— She <em>wouldn’t</em>.</p><p>There was no plausible way this was normal. In any other suburb, there would be... well, signs of life.</p><p>Jill was certain she would hear children playing, the barking of family pets, the sound of cars... Jill figured suburban life would be bustling, especially with people starting their mornings or returning home in the evenings.</p><p>There were so many houses on this street, now that she thought about it... There were dozens. <em>Dozens!</em></p><p>Was her street just the quiet one of the neighbourhood? She honestly could see Albert favouring such an option... But <em>why...? </em></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>When she stepped out from the patio, instead of being met with warm sunlight, Jill felt the raindrops' frigid cold hitting her skin. Fuck, she really should’ve grabbed that jacket… She was going to be absolutely soaked by the end of this ordeal. </p><p>Jill could hear her slippers scraping against the concrete beneath her as she walked briskly to the curb of the street. She paused…</p><p>She looked down the seemingly endless stretch of pavement to her left, then looked to the equally long stretch of pavement to her right…</p><p>Silence. Complete silence, as always.</p><p>Jill almost prayed that the rain would intensify so there would at least be <em>something</em> to hear... The silence to her was worse than the anticipation; salt in an already sore wound. It was almost insulting.</p><p>Stepping onto the barren pavement stretching the length of her street, Jill kept her eyes on the door ahead of her. It stood, waiting, beckoning her... Almost, but not quite, as insulting as the silence surrounding her. Jill felt the paperclips in her pocket dig into the skin of her palm as she gripped them, tense. </p><p>Before she knew it, she was already at those damned, white, wooden steps again. That same, damned creak came out of them as she climbed towards the patio. The same, damned door stared at her right in the face now.</p><p>Jill, at the mercy of her conscience more than anything, raised her fist to knock. She waited for a moment, expecting to hear the voice of her husband from behind her, or perhaps the sound of a car finally coming down the street... Anything along the lines of a sudden drop in her own luck, Jill expected.</p><p>But, it didn't come. There was no car, no Albert calling her name... No anything. Just as always.</p><p> </p><p><em>Okay</em>, that little voice in her head chimed, <em>Don't even give it a chance. Just go!</em></p><p> </p><p>Jill, not at all wanting to protest her own gut feeling, rapped her fist against the hardwood of the door.</p><p>She then waited...and then she knocked again, just a bit harder.</p><p>Nothing.No shuffling of footsteps from behind the door, no faint calls of someone 'coming' echoing... Just <em>nothing</em>.</p><p>Something inside of Jill broke then and there. What exactly that little something was, she wasn't entirely sure. The pit in her stomach was too deep, the tightness in her chest becoming too much... Jill couldn't tell what exactly she was feeling, but she <em>did</em> know she was ready to find out just what the fuck was going on with her life.</p><p>She dropped to her knees unceremoniously on the patio. Grabbing one of the pin rakes from her pocket, Jill shoved it quickly into the lock. Not wasting <em>any</em> time she was given, she did the same with one of the torsion wrenches. It was honestly just like it had been before on her own door, and that's exactly what she had to keep telling herself. There was a bit of resistance, and the shaking of her hands wasn't helping in the slightest of course.</p><p>Jill couldn't help but wonder the many 'what if' situations of her not being able to pick the damn thing. Would she just walk away defeatedly? Would she try again another day or let the curiosity eat away at her until her eventual, inevitable breakdown? </p><p>No... There was still hope.</p><p>She could feel the pins sliding into place, she could feel the wrench turning, the lock submitting... </p><p>A loud click broke the static of the rain around her... Jill felt her stomach churn. </p><p>She reached for the doorknob, trying not to think of the horrors that could possibly await her on the other side. As she pushed the door open, she imagined a family sitting peacefully in their living room, shocked at this woman now standing in their foyer. She imagined a husband aiming a weapon at her, trying to protect his family. She imagined a bloody crime scene, which would explain the empty, abandoned house... A family slain in their own home, their house untouched for days, maybe even weeks...</p><p>Jill swallowed, repressing a shudder. <em>Anything</em> would be better than finding dead bodies. God knows how long she wouldn't be able to sleep. Albert would be worried sick, he'd undoubtedly think she was only getting worse... </p><p>But, thankfully, instead of corpses, the only thing that stood before Jill was a home.</p><p>And the home in question was... perfectly normal.</p><p>From what she could see from the doorway, the kitchen and the living room weren't <em>too</em> out of the ordinary. They seemed to be just like any other home's, really; Even just like hers. A beautiful table sat in the dining room (<em>with four chairs, Jill noted</em>), a decent sized television in the living room... Everything <em>seemed</em> normal at a glance. </p><p>Jill pulled the now mangled picks from the lock, putting them in the opposite, empty pocket of her robe. She debated closing the door, but feared having to make a quick exit. She noted to herself to just keep out for the sound of a car... and to watch the clock very closely.</p><p>At that thought, she glanced around the living room as she stepped into it. A clock sat on the wall, reading 3:30. </p><p>She would need to be back by six, at least; That was more than enough time to look around, to find out just what in the <em>fuck</em> was going on. </p><p>Jill looked up to the staircase sitting a few meters away. She approached it, gazing into the darkness of the story above her.</p><p>"...Hello?" She called, hearing her voice echo against the hardwood beneath her. </p><p>There was no reply, no sound of footsteps... She didn't know what she expected, for someone to reply '<em>Oh, welcome! Make yourself comfortable!</em>' from upstairs? Jill scoffed at herself before stepping onto the staircase, cringing as that same hardwood beneath her creaked.</p><p> </p><p>The upstairs was dark. Jill was dizzy from anxiety as she ventured down the hall, passing a bathroom, then a large bedroom, then a child's room, and office very similar to Albert's... All empty, all just as untouched as the rest of the house. </p><p>Jill wasn't sure what exactly she <em>was</em> looking for. She didn't know which room to inspect, if she should inspect any at all. She considered running back down to the kitchen to look for recently dirtied dishes, maybe, or even looking for recently done laundry... <em>domestic</em> things, things every home would have, <em>should</em> have.</p><p>Something stung Jill then. <em>You should know better</em>, a little voice whispered, <em>You should look for better things!</em> </p><p>But, Jill quelled that little voice; <em>these things</em> were all she knew...</p><p> </p><p>Coming to the end of the hallway, Jill stared at a mirror that sat, hanging on the corridor's end. As Jill approached, staring at her disheveled, still rain soaked form, she could see a faint kiss of dust over the mirror's glass. Jill felt a lump rise in her throat. She was half tempted to run her finger across the dust layer, but only balled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms. </p><p>
  <em>Maybe they had just forgotten to clean it...?</em>
</p><p>Turning back and facing the hallway again, Jill then made her way into the large bedroom sitting a few doors down.</p><p>She came into the doorway, peeking into the room and looking for anything strange. Nothing, of course.</p><p>There was a set of drawers, presumably filled with clothes, sitting against the wall to her right. There was a television on a nearby table. There were a sliding set of doors, leading to a closet, she assumed.</p><p>Jill stood staring at the bed before her, shocked it was perfectly made; not a crease or wrinkle in sight. Though she liked to think of herself as a good housewife (as picture perfect for Albert as she could be), Jill could admit she didn't much feel like making her own bed everyday. She would always rush off to begin cooking breakfast before Albert would awaken, or finish getting ready herself as to not get in his way as he prepared for work. Then she'd get side tracked, inevitably...</p><p>What she was trying to get to in her own mind, was just <em>what</em> was going on here?</p><p>The house being caked in dust, untouched for what seemed to be months? Jill rationalized that maybe they just weren't a clean family, maybe too busy and could only do it so often... <em>But</em>, a busy family still needed to sleep. It seemed odd, to her at least, that the theoretical housewife of this home would have energy to make the bed every morning but not touch the rest of the house.</p><p>Jill's stomach lurched. </p><p>
  <em>Maybe they're away...?</em>
</p><p>That little rational voice in her head tried to soothe her anxiety, and Jill almost wished she could believe it. Why go away and leave all your belongings? Jill had seen keys near the door, shoes in the hallway...</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Keys, keys...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The picks... </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Wait, what time was it..?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Instinctively, Jill looked around for a nearby clock. One caught her eye, sitting on the bedside table and it's hands reading, 4:02. Jill was satisfied, she still had plenty of time to get back home.</p><p>She moved, just about to turn and leave the bedroom. Jill considered looking in the kitchen for expired food, or maybe dirtied dishes, in the spare time she had left... But, a lone picture frame caught her eye, sitting next to the clock on the nightstand.</p><p>An empty picture frame.</p><p>Jill stared at it, only letting out a nervous laugh.</p><p>Okay, easy enough, it was just a new frame, and they hadn't put a picture in it. Easy. Perfectly normal, it was something that happened to all of us...</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Without thinking twice, Jill bolted down the hallway. She no longer cared about the thudding of her footsteps, or the creaking of the stairs as she descended and nearly tripped over them. </p><p>She cursed herself. She had been so damn occupied with finding that damn clock. </p><p>Jill walked through the living room, coming to the hallway she had skimmed over when entering the house. Sure enough, a table sat within it, mirroring her own home, almost unnervingly. Jill swallowed hard as she approached the frames, unable to see their contents from where she still stood.</p><p> </p><p>When she finally came to them, looking down at them with heavy breath, Jill saw they were just as empty as the one upstairs.</p><p>Every one of them, big and small, barren and devoid of any sign of a family.</p><p>Like clockwork, the little voice in her head tried to subdue the nausea that overwhelmed her. A divorce would explain this, or a death in the family; it was all just a coping mechanism, <em>something</em> that could be <em>explained</em>...</p><p>Something about those frames being empty had broken something in her for the second time today.</p><p>At this point in time, Jillian Wesker wanted none of it. Even <em>if</em> there was somehow and explanation for these things, even if there was something she overlooked, she didn't care. The possible existence of dishes in the kitchen no longer mattered, the dust in the hallway no longer mattered, the perfectly made bed upstairs no longer mattered.</p><p> </p><p>She didn't think to try to lock the door back into place, she only slammed it shut.</p><p>She didn't think to look for an approaching car as she crossed the street, she just ran, and ran, and ran.</p><p>The rain felt colder, the sky seemed darker, the stillness seemed more maddening; The hiss of the rain seemed more <em>taunting</em>.</p><p> </p><p>Jill's feet hit the steps of her porch so hard she was sure she would break them. Now sheltered from the rain pelting her, she fervently checked her now-soaked robe's pocket. When she felt the familiar poke of the paperclips against her fingers, Jill sighed loudly.</p><p>Swinging the front door open and practically throwing herself inside, Jill could do nothing but stand there, almost dumbfounded by what she had just seen. Nothing made sense, and the idea of peace she had hoped to find lay slaughtered at her feet.</p><p> </p><p>She would deal with the rainwater on the floor later. Jill fell against the door and broke into sobs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hello again, dearest readers!<br/>i'm so sorry this chapter took so long to complete! it was sort of hard to write, i'll admit. i'm still struggling to capture the tension but make things seem still so eerily normal, plus writer's block is never a fun thing to deal with. nevertheless, i hope you enjoyed the update! i'll be back soon for part five, i promise! ♡</p>
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